


Hallownest Eternal

by Unhaus



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Brumm wants to banish the Grimm Troupe, Chapter 1 is just romeo and juliet but with the nightmare king and pure vessel, Divine is just a whiny bitch, Ghost is almost 30 and too old for this shit., Grimm has 4 legs and 4 arms, Grimm is actually a tick, Grimm's name means something in another language, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mpreg, Multi, Past Torture, and the radiance's, annnnnd my one oc Siasivid, fucking whoops?, nsfw warning in chapter 6, so whoever figures out their names get's a shoutout, the pale king tried to kill his son but it failed so he wrote about it instead., the white lady can't handle and stress ever, though i don't actually write it out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unhaus/pseuds/Unhaus
Summary: Once, and only once, did the light give her warmth happily, but that time has long gone. She has since banished her younger brother Iska Ilaaliya, only for him to return the favor - turning to the side of the Wyrm who sought to usurp her. She went mad, and sent a plague upon the kingdom she used to love. The Wyrm was desperate and created a legion of vessels.Upon recieving the news his past lover has fallen for his perfect creation, the king decides to lock his son up immediately, sending a preist from the City of tears to do something about the Nightmare King Iska. All the while Iska's own troupe is plotting a betrayal so cruel that if it were to succeed, Iska would certainly be dead by the end of the week.Can the knight - Ghost - save the kingdom, reason with the Radiance and the Wyrm, and reunite two star crossed lovers? Find out!---------------Avocadon't allowed me to write a fanfic they'll read so, here it is lol.





	1. Character list

**Author's Note:**

> im so unprepared so this is a prep chapter and a list of the main characters in this fanfic, so uh, im gonna get right to the real chapter 1!

**The Characters in this story will be**

The Pale king

The White Lady

Grimm _(Iska Ilaaliya)_ / The Nightmare King

The Pure vessel / Hollow Knight

Hornet

Ghost / the knight

The siblings

The Radiance _(Kiirgav)_

Brumm

Divine

The Grimmsteeds

Wiloh

The Preist _(An oc)_

Siasivid _(An oc)_

Grimmchild


	2. A Memory on the Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to when the Pure vessel was still the prince, living at the white palace, being visited by his lover nightly - only for the king, his father to ruin it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially Romeo & Juliet with Grimm and the Pure Vessel, the white lady is a somewhat absent mom, and the pale king assaults his son, along with the other vessels screaming at him within the pure vessel.

He found himself standing near the tower his love was locked in, he stared at himself, then up at the window from where he could see the shadow of the prince moving about inside their room. Grimm could feel his face heating from the thought to speaking with them, despite the howling cold winds. He sighed, unfurled his cloak and dropped it on the ground - all four arms taking to stretching. As he took hold of part of the stony castle walls both sets of legs scrambled for purchase.

 

“Mon amour! Mon amour!” He called out, not expecting to be heard.

 

There was the sound of the window unlatching, and the pure vessel poked their head out of the open window. Their two black eyes, carved into the mask appear to widen - and they reach out to help Grimm up.

 

“Ah! Thank you, my dear!” He smiled, all four arms slung over the windowsill, legs kicking and flailing in attempt to get a foothold.

 

The prince laughed mutely, a hand over their mask, where a mouth was supposed to be. Their empty eyes seemed to be more lively. The vessel took a stone slab and began to write on it.

 

“You write? Ah, what am I saying? You’re a prince, of course you write.” Grimm laughed, clearly in on some sort of joke.

 

The prince gave another mute laugh, shoulders bouncing up and down softly, continuing to scrawl it’s note onto the tablet, before turning it over to show Grimm.

 

**Grimm, you really came? Despite my father’s ill - will for you?**

 

“Yes, you expect him to be able to stop me? With the wings of love I can rise far above him and the path of pain that he expects travellers to walk.”

 

The prince set the tablet on a pillow near the window sill and leaned out the window, hands outreached to stroke Grimm’s cheeks. He traced the lines of makeup that marked Grimm as a troupe member.

 

His scarlet eyes closed slightly as the Prince continued to hold him, before his eyes snapped open, peering to the door. The prince whipped his head around when he heard it too. A kingsmould talking to presumably his father outside, about what was planned to be the prince's fate.

 

“Mon amour, I must go, lest I be caught and us - forcibly separated. But remember that I shall return, and we shall speak again.” Grimm took one of the prince’s hands, kissed it, and dropped to the ground with a fair amount of grace.

 

He waved, blew a kiss, and vanished in a puff of red flames. The prince swooned silently before closing the window and hiding his stone tablet under his bed, rushing to put his room in order before the king - his father - came in to check on to check on him.

 

“There you are, what have you been doing? Training I’d hope.” The king walked to his bedside and sat on the bed, next to the prince. “You certainly have plenty of free time to be doing that.”

 

The prince nodded, and looked over at his father, or what he would like to call his father. However, he’d much rather be spending time with his mother, or with the love of his life - Grimm.

 

The king stood the vessel up and examined their body, prompting the vessel to stay still, despite the increasingly loud well of voices in their head wailing about being manhandled this way.

 

~~_Let go father._ ~~

~~_You let us go before. So let us go now._ ~~

~~_We deserve rest, just for once._ ~~

~~_Do not touch us, not in this way, not at all._ ~~

~~_LET GO._ ~~

_~~G E T O U T.~~ _

 


	3. Ain't those them Nightmare Realm fuckers?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can dance, for one. But dancing won't save him from the steeds and their dirty deeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka: grimm's dramatic the musical, the Grimmsteeds are planning something, and vengefly's are pretty much crows.
> 
> \---  
> wooo

    Grimm sighed, wrapping himself in his cloak - it was windy, and the wind made it cold. Grimm never liked the cold, being a creature made of fire. His troupe had resettled in Dirtmouth after being stranded when Ghost ignored them, and refused the ritual - which, rather selfishly Grimm did not mind.

 

    He was busy with shows, one being in only a few moments. However, he really ought to get to work. His billet-doux needed to be completed. To who, he dare not say, after all - his lover had been lost to him for years. He sat at a desk, and wrote out his letter for hours with unwavering focus, that nothing could break. Even when Brumm entered into the room, Grimm did not look up from his desk.

 

    “Grimm, there is a performance in five minutes. You will be needed.”

 

    “Yes Brumm, thank you.” Grimm nodded and put his letter away in the desk drawer before he put his pen back in the inkwell.

 

    He sat back in his chair, before he got up, pacing around his room. His cloak billowing behind him as he walked. He unclasped his cloak, let it fall and stretched all four of his arms, before he took his cloak up from where it dropped on the floor, and put it back on.

 

    Grimm exited his own tent, passed by the Grimmsteeds outside so that he could enter into the main tent where the show was held.

 

    He heard people talking, milling about and he almost liked it - _yes, this is what he was destined for_ \- outside of prolonging the heart of Grimm. He nodded to Brumm, from what was officially backstage - out of view of the audience. Time to actually do this and preform. Grimm vanished with a puff of a red flame, before appearing on the stage in another red flaming puff before instantly taking a bowed stance. The crowd cheered and went wild, he was unmoved by the noise - refusing to move until he heard the accordion play.

 

    He began to dance; clever was not something he was, but he could dance - it was all he knew of his own accord. The rest of the things he knew were passed down by his ancestors, most of who he had never known.

 

    “Thank you for coming, I could not have performed if not for you all!” Grimm smiled and waved to the crowd once his show was over - to which he was shocked to say, he was glad it was over.

 

    As people left he caught sight of a single Vengefly, hovering near the well leading into the forgotten Crossroads. What this could even mean, he did not know. And it enraged him to the point of launching a fireball - which took care of the Vengefly, it’s scorched corpse hitting the ground.

 

    “Tch. _Vermin_.” He grumbled, striding back to his tent.

 

    His Grimmsteeds just stared as he passed before looking back to each other, giving a solemn nod to each other.

 

    “We really plan to go through with this?” One asked, worried about Grimm’s power, and what he’d do if angered with them.

 

    “It was Brumm’s idea, if you want to complain, do it to him.” The other barked out at them, huffing and looking away to the town, where another Vengefly had taken place of the first.

 


	4. The Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost had revisited Dirtmouth after - however many years. And decides to get a new nail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh,,,, little ghost grew up big hUH?? Sleeby vessel hours.

The little Ghost who was, admittedly, not very little anymore, took a seat on the bench in Dirtmouth. He sighed, and very unceremoniously dropped his nail to the ground. He’d really ought to ask if he could have a larger nail made for him, at the rate he was growing this one was almost like a small knife.

 

As the elderbug looked over to Ghost, he nodded, and Iselda peeked out of her and her husband’s house. Their house was rather small, and Iselda was rather tall - almost too tall for the house. Cornifer - her husband, was away; performing his duties as a cartographer.

 

Ghost sighed, neck twitching to the side, oh how he longed to speak. Or in this case, _scream_. He wanted to scream out every swear he’d learnt from the stone tablets he’d read. 

 

_~~ Brother.  ~~ _

_~~ Big brother. ~~ _

_~~ Do not disobey. ~~ _

_~~ The pantheons. ~~ _

_~~ God seeker. ~~ _

_~~ Lord. ~~ _

_~~ My lord. ~~ _

 

My lord. The words echoed inside his mask, a voice not his own. The voice of his siblings, calling him lord. He was no lord, that title was reserved for his father the wyrm, and his father alone.

 

But for now, sleep was calling to him. A foreign feeling to a vessel such as he. However he wanted to get a new weapon made. Later….. For now. A nap.

  
  



	5. The Road He Walks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of reflection on the pale king, and what led him to be what he is, or, what he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pk,,,,, silent bc he thinks dying without last words is a nice aesthetic.

The road he walks is a perilous road, filled with danger and deceit. He sits alone in his castle, a rusty throne his self made prison. He certainly sees his son’s anger now, feeling as if he was unjustly imprisoned. However, he remains unmoved to the vessel’s plight. By now, he wife has fled to her gardens, his subjects succumbed to the plague, and his guards died - along with thousands of his own spawn. All he’d wanted in a spawn was the best, yet the void was unable to comply, so back to the birthplace they went.

 

Now, his kingdom is dying, again, after all he did to bring it back. The poor simple bugs of the kingdom fell before her wrath. He had taken the kingdom yes, but, he let it live - not just survive.

 

He was growing weaker by the day, and he felt his grasp upon the mortal plane slipping yet further. Death was something the wyrm king was not acquainted with, and he had no intention to meet them now. _Or ever_. As his castle continued to crumble around him he allowed himself repose in his mind. He leaned back in his throne, determined to keep his comfort in what might be the last moments of his life. His eyes grew lifeless and dull, as his head fell forward and hung at a strange angle.

 

~~_The only fault of mine,_ ~~

~~_Was that I wanted an immortal kingdom._ ~~

~~_Truly, it was not mine own,_ ~~

~~_But I had reclaimed it for all bugs._ ~~

 

~~_She, the old light, had ruled before,_ ~~

~~_But I granted her moths free will._ ~~

~~_They did not deserve this luxury,_ ~~

~~_But I am a giving Wyrm._ ~~

~~~~  


~~_I am a king,_ ~~

~~_And my kingdom,_ ~~

~~_Shan’t falter._ ~~

 

~~_No cost too great._ ~~


	6. How to Maim a Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare heart has awoken due to a premature ritual, which was only caused by the wyrm king's misgivings - so a bizarre cricket decides to give Grimm a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bold is the nightmare heart, italics underline is the pale king!
> 
> I took for ever on this one! sorry haha! ;>-<;
> 
>  
> 
> (and yes, the priest fucks)

There was a priest, working merrily in his tower, it was close to the city of tears - not exactly in the center of the city. But it was close enough. They hummed as they arranged some flowers and candles on a shrine they’d set up for the Wyrm king, only to stop when a voice spoke within their mind.

 

_The nightmare king is becoming troublesome again._

 

“Yes my Wyrm?” The priest took full notice of how their god was speaking directly to them. This was truly a blessed day.

 

_ He first tried to lure my vessel into love, now he has put roots into my kingdom. Stop him.  _

 

“Ah! The pure vessel in the statue? The one I’ve heard about?” They wanted to stall, to continue this conversation.

 

_The one in the temple. He lured them into a false sense of hope - one that they did not need to function as intended._

 

“How am I to stop him? I will stop him of course, I will do anything for you my wyrm!”

 

_It is nice to see at least one of my subjects is still good to me. _

 

He heard laughter of the wyrm, echoing in their head - as the priest began to twitch slightly, looking around for anything they might need.

 

_Go to the top of the tower. You have been there before - but there is a door to a secret hideaway. I have put weapons into this hidden room for such an occasion._

 

“Y - yes my lord!” The tall cricket priest hummed and rushed over to the spiral staircase, taking the steps 2 at a time until they reached the top floor of their tower.

 

_Good, now do you see that cloth? Remove it from the wall and slip between the bricks._

 

As the priest took the cloth off the wall their neck twitched, and they found themself staring at the small opening between bricks. The priest had to bend down and crawl in, standing up and brushing their robe off once they were inside.

 

A golden spear with a silver point was on a rack which hung from the wall, below it was a small wooden daggar, and a small black box was sitting on a small wooden table. There was a thick leather bound book on the table as well, with a small dried delicate flower poking out from between the pages, and a small pouch laying on top of the book.

 

_ Take the spear and the daggar, take the pendant and the book, the salt and the flower. The spear is a long range weapon for if the king can sense our plan. The daggar is for close combat - hopefully you could survive the fight. The pendant is silver, for if he lives, and tries to kill you - as is the salt.  _

 

_The book is full of spells of protection to cast upon the temple and your tower, and the flower is to be a gift to show affection to him. But it will be his demise._

 

The priest reached out to take the daggar, slipping it into a hilt under their robes of worship. They slipped the pouch, and book into a bag which hung from their side. They reached for the spear and their hands tingled, the feeling of a powerful ecstasy overcoming them.

 

_Now. Go to lure him into a false sense of safety, then - do what you wish. I shall let you know, before I depart - his roots were placed into Dirtmouth._

 

The priest was saddened once the wyrm stopped speaking to him, but he had a duty to perform for them. He left his tower and rushed to the lift. He intended to get to the crossroads, so he’d need to take the lift there - and once he did, he could travel to Dirtmouth on foot.

 

As he stepped foot in the lift a tall wasp was standing next to him, she seemed to be heading up as well. He decided to make small talk.

 

“You wish to go to Dirtmouth?”

 

“Yes, actually. There is an event I must attend.” She smiled to him.

 

Once the lift went to the crossroads, the priest stepped out, and as he turned to help her out next - it was customary to treat ladies with respect - she was gone. There was no sign of her.

 

They pushed it out from their mind and they rushed up to the well, which would take them to Dirtmouth. Once in Dirtmouth, it was just starting to cool down, getting into the somewhat cooler fall months.

 

Just like the wyrm said there were tents. The priest entered into the smaller one, assuming it to be Grimm’s tent - the one he’d choose to live in. How anyone could sleep where they’d performed would never cease to baffle the priest.

 

Grimm was able to sense the guest, and he laughed softly. “You didn’t even ask.”

 

“Ask? About what?” They felt like they had to use bitter words to defend themself, like that was all they had.

 

“About the services I definitely provide.” Grimm snarked and he reached out from the shadows to grab the priest’s face by where a chin would be on any human.

 

In panic they reached for their hilt, and grabbed the daggar they’d put away. With a sickening squish he shoved it into the hand that Grimm had put upon him.

 

“No!” Grimm was shocked, certainly it wouldn’t kill him - it was nowhere near his heart, but it sure hurt like void.

 

As Grimm fumbled the priest shoved him to the floor, stood over him, pulled the staff over his head, and his hands trembled. He reached down and missed, suddenly panicking from the thought of murder - even to a monster. He impaled Grimm’s right eye instead of his heart - the wrym ought to be furious.

 

_Drastic measures. They must be taken._

_Grimm shall be broken._ _The beast must suffer._

 

A voice was drilling into the poor priests head - his entire body shook.

 

“Can - Can we not talk this over?!” Grimm was pleading, their non injured hand reaching up to the wounded eye. The almost glass like coating had broken, letting the effectively - jelly textured part of his eye leak out. And that stung his face where it dripped, it was hot - almost lavalike - and now that there was skin contact it burnt.

 

“Silence beast. Once thy’s done, I shall be the greatest monster slayer ever!”

 

He pulled the pouch of salt from his bag, attempted to undo the string - so he could dump the salt over the body, let it fizzle and dissolve; but as he did Grimm  kicked him hard, and he fell backwards, glaring.

 

~~_Do what you must. We’ll not watch._ ~~

 

_ Torment him my loyal priest. Do as your own root commands.  _

 

Yes, what he must. First he must keep them still. He took the book out, and as he flipped through it Grimm gasped - presumably in terror and shock. A spell, all he had to do was say it. That was something he could do - and when he did Grimm promptly seemed to fall asleep.

 

“Pitiful monster thee are.” The priest stood, and kicked the sleeping body. They then unlatched the gold button on their cloak - letting it fall to the ground.

 

The next hour or so was a blur, and not even the priest knew what had happened. All they knew was that they woke up next to the sleeping monster. It lured them in - the king was right - it really was as bad as he said.

 

The priest rushed to dress hastily, before putting the pouch and book into his bag, putting the daggar in his hilt, and taking the spear again, putting it into the latch on the back of his robe. There was supposed to be something else too, but he couldn’t remember what it was - only that it was with the book when he first got it.

 

He then rushed out in a panic - no time to think, only for the same bug that he saw in the lift to walk in once around five minutes had passed. She strolled over to Grimm all too casually, before she bent down and pressed a dried up delicate flower into his injured hand.

 

“For the death of your innocence.”

 

She stood up again, her cloak - fading from a pure white to a very deep rich black billowing around her. As the cricket lady stared at him, she began to pace before looking back at him.

 

“Iska, for your crime of defiling the sacred kingdom of Hallownest, your punishment will to bear the results of this act alone. Nobody shall love you now - anyone who’s loved you before can love you again - but anyone you love for the first time shall never reciprocate the feeling. You will be alone in your misery.”

 

She knew she could not outright kill him, it wouldn’t be right - but she was expected not to praise him for wanting to protect himself, so she did all that she could to do both. She would let him live, and seemingly punish him for his crime. She was a protector, not a killer - even if he’d really defiled the kingdom, she’d never kill him outright.

 

“Be safe, and quick in healing.”

 

She suddenly took off, once she was at the entrance to the tent she vanished, in a small cloud of smoke.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere off in the nightmare’s realm a faint heartbeat was heard prematurely - it was not supposed to awaken for another six years. That was when the ritual needed to begin.

 

It was old enough to understand - perhaps Grimm was too, but he was too young to assure safety.

 

The heart’s eyes blinked once, twice, and then stayed open.

 

**Wake up my vessel, my shell, wake up, arise.**

 


	7. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This marks the beginning of Grimm's new life - and all that comes with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a poor little vamp, also ghost's text is in parenthesis

    It had been a rough week for Grimm, he’d been woken to find that it wasn’t a dream - and that he was undergoing the ritual before he was ready. His body was mature, he was full grown - but his kind still insisted they abstain for another 100 to 500 years.

 

    He could feel all of his ancestors laughing at him for his failure to stay chaste. His body hurt, despite it having been a week ago when he was attacked. His eye wasn’t healing, no matter how much he tried to fix it - he had taken to wearing bandages over it as it scarred. His hand was entirely useless, limp and with no ability to hold things.

 

    “Hmm.”

 

**Why are you upset?**

 

    “I wish they hadn’t hurt me, I’ve only got three functioning hands!” Grimm was feigning worry at the loss of one of his arms.

 

**Tch, that’s almost funny.**

 

    Grimm sighed, going back to sit at his desk, leg bouncing slightly, as he tried to gather his thoughts. His head was swimming and it was painful. Iska knew how this was going to end, but he seemed to be avoidant.

 

    “It was…..supposed to be…”

 

    He couldn’t handle it, breathing labored and strained even without doing anything. He took his good hand and rested his chin in that hand, letting the injured rest on the desk as he stared at it. It was mauled and only just now starting to scar over.

 

    “Am I a bad person?”

 

**At the very least you are a person - I am not.**

 

    “Gee thanks.” Grimm sighed, letting his head rest on the desk, watching out of the corner of his good eye as the shadow vanished from view.

 

    He was just about to drift into a peaceful sleep, when he felt a wave of nausea hit him and he groaned. He sat up slightly and tried to swallow it down, leaning back in his chair.

 

    Brumm was outside his tent, and he’d assumed that Iska was simply falling asleep, so he went off into Divine’s tent, where the Grimmsteeds were poking their heads in - bodies too big to be in the tent.

 

    “Mrrm, he’s been distant - ought to be figuring us out.”

 

    “Oh relax…” Divine laughed Brumm’s worry off and she set about organizing her tent. “He’s lacking in the mental department - along with sight.”

 

    “Ah yes, the eye.” One of the steeds nodded solemnly. “How did he even injure it?”

 

    “Some bug had come in for private time with him, clearly hadn’t liked it.” She snickered along with the others at the idea of Grimm being suave enough for that.

 

    Grimm lacked the charisma needed to make another bug even think about it, at least in their minds he lacked it. He wasn’t like his predecessor - the one who had recruited most of his troupe, and the one they’d all preferred.

 

    “He’s just moody, now - we have a plan to make.”

 

    “Couldn’t we just wait until the ritual Divine?” One of the steeds asked, shifting slightly.

 

    “We’re not waiting another century at least. If you want to wait, stay with him.” She scoffed at them - as if their idea was incredibly absurd.

 

    “When are we going to do this then?” The other steed asked, as the first nodded.

 

    “Soon. Once you both get it through your heads this will be a permanent thing!”

 

    (That what will be permanent?) The new bug - Ghost of Hallownest - had asked, poking his masked head into the tent.

 

    “The masters injuries, he was wounded last week.” Brumm instantly took a façade of a worried friend - hanging his head. The others followed his lead.

 

    There was a muted gasp, as Ghost left to the other small tent where Grimm was resting - rushing off as quickly as he could.

 

    “That was close.” Divine sighed softly.

 

    “Too close.” Brumm said, huffing softly.

 

Grimm sighed, having been woken from his sleep by his head slammed into his desk. It hurt and he was 5 seconds away from standing up and strangling Ghost. His head was reeling - again.

 

“Ghost, what in the wyrm’s name was that about?”

 

Ghost gave a mute laugh and signed out (You weren’t waking up when I shook you so - I had to-)

 

“Beat the shit out of me? I swear, if your brother knew.” Iska shook his head at the vessel, standing shakily - and leaning slightly - off balance.

 

(What happened? You look sick.)

 

“Someone attacked me, thought you’d have known - seeing as I’ve got bandages all over my face.” Grimm swatted at the knight with his good hand, before having to hold onto the desk with the other two.

 

(Oh, well if it’s any consultation I talked to Brumm, he said he was informing the others. He wasn’t taking it too well.)

 

“He’s polite, a good friend, I honestly couldn’t ask for anything more.” Grimm smiled softly, relaxing.

 

(Mother made tea, I came in case you wanted any. She’s still at the palace, with my brother…)

 

Ghost became silent, sitting down on a crate of costumes, holding the small effectively thermos of tea, legs kicking slightly. He loved his brother - the pure vessel. His mother loved them too, his father was the only one who didn’t.

 

His brother was sick, very sick. He was made to contain the plague - which was a product of Kiirgav. Grimm’s sister - most called her the Radiance though. He found a power he liked to control, and she got scared he’d overthrow her or something. So she kicked him out, and he got real mad.

 

She then got angry right back at him and cursed the entire kingdom. So the wyrm - Ghost’s dad - made a bunch of vessels through reproduction and used one to contain the plague. That one was the hollow knight, he was recovering.

 

“Is he alright?” Grimm suddenly staggered over to Ghost leaning in, frenzied over his partner’s condition.

 

(He still can’t form coherent sentences, and he’s yet to move.)

 

Grimm sighed, looking to the floor, more interested in his own two feet than the conversation.

 

“What kind of tea is it?” He had to distract himself, so he decided upon asking about the tea - even though he knew he couldn’t have it - if what he thought was true, actually was.

 

(Silverrod I believe. Why?)

 

“Ah, even if I could have tea, not that kind.” He worked his way into a seated position on the crate next to Ghost.

 

(What do you mean if you could?)

 

Grimm sighed, and he placed his good hand on his abdomen. “I believe I’m…. I….” He trailed off, letting his hand drop back to his side.

 

Ghost was silent, not even signing anything - which even though mute, felt like they were talking. This was too silent, neither of them liked it but neither would break the silence which hung heavy in the air.

 

(I see.) The knight nodded, putting the thermos up.

 

“You don’t want it?”

 

(No mouth Grimm.)

 

“Ah.” He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the floor and yawning.

 

(Go to bed you sleepy fucker.)

 

“Hey! Watch your language!” Grimm took his lower set of arms and shook Ghost with them.

 

Personally to him, he did not think swears were tolerable. He was going to say tolerable for kids, yet ghost was not one any longer. 

 

(Seriously. You have to sleep, you look awful.)

 

“I _feel_ awful. Far too awful to be normal. Even like this.”

 

He knew he’d certainly not feel good like this yes - but this was far too much. He felt terrible to the point he wanted to just lay down and let the world wash over him. So, when Ghost packed up and left, that’s exactly what he did.

 

Settled onto the floor and curled up to sleep, only for the nightmare king's shadow to reappear, look down at them - not in a malicious way however - and crack a smile. **Yes,** they thought, **I must protect them and the young, from anything with intent to harm.**

 


End file.
